


My Little Creampuff

by XaviaAndromedovna



Series: Daily Fic Drabbles Table A [14]
Category: Anastasia (1997)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 07:37:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/859562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XaviaAndromedovna/pseuds/XaviaAndromedovna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vlad has fond memories of his Sophie on the road to Paris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Little Creampuff

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Wood

Four years have passed since the last time Vlad saw Sophie, and the unbearable distance is making his heart feel a lot of things beyond fondness.  He feels a small fear of impending peril in the wake of their ill-fated train ride, though this is mostly fading with the miles.  He feels a sadness for what he has left behind, what had been a beautiful life in Russia where he and Sophie were happy together.  He feels a nervous excitement about reuniting with his love, like a young man again in his inability to think about anything else.

But mostly, fondness prevails through the memories that surround him on their journey through central Europe.  The ancient woods within which their path winds are a world of past life echoes, backdrops to shadow plays starring him and his Sophie in happier years in the woods of the Russian countryside.  With every tree he passes, the memories and the longing become stronger and warmer, enveloping him in the indelible desire to frolic through them in joyful abandon.

They must stop for rest in a little country town one night.  The stars are alive with dreams of days long past and hopes for days long future, and the moon is full like it was the night he and Sophie first made love.  When the rest of his party is asleep, he sneaks out of the cottage and wanders through the dark comfort of the forest.  Moonlight spills through the trees, and he swears he can hear Sophie giggling from not a tree away.  He follows the voice around in circles and comes to rest at the base of a tree with two roots that have fused into one.  It’s a lover’s tree, and it reminds him of the one he took Sophie to that night, where he carved their names into it as passionate fools do.

He remembers satin skin and supple breasts and gentle lips.  He remembers soft hair and firm eyes telling him secrets unfathomable.  He remembers the pure sound of his name on the wind as she cried out in bliss.

A rustle beyond wakes Vlad from his reverie.  He takes out his knife and carves their names in the tree.

“Soon, my little Creampuff.”

**Author's Note:**

> Anastasia is not mine.


End file.
